


Respite

by Lycoriseum



Series: Solistre & Shadowheart [3]
Category: Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycoriseum/pseuds/Lycoriseum
Summary: A chat, a bottle of wine, and a pleasant night together.
Relationships: Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Solistre & Shadowheart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047412
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Respite

If narrowly dodging the threat of having her name immortalised in song by Alfira or in tale by Volo was not sufficient, then having Wyll's gleaming, mismatched eyes fall upon her during his half-drunk, boisterous retelling of their victory over the goblins, is sign enough to Solistre that she should leave the celebration. Having a modest feast is leagues better than the rations they'd subsisted on while traveling, but even the food and drink cannot convince her to stay – not when the extra attention is grating on her nerves.

Swiping a bottle of wine from the table, Solistre slips away from the crowd as they gasp at Wyll's dramatic re-enactment of Ragzlin's death. She steps into the nearest shadow – but not quickly enough. A tentative voice calls out to her, and she grits her teeth, cursing her luck as she turns around.

The tiefling looks a hairsbreadth away from soiling himself when her eyes land on him, but he pulls himself together, even if his feet continue to shuffle restlessly.

"I, um. Heard you were with Wyll in the goblin camp," he speaks quickly, nearly tripping over the words. "Wanted to give this to him, but, uh. He said you were the real hero? So…"

He raises the neatly-bound package in his hands, and looks lost when Solistre doesn't move. So he finds a compromise by thrusting the package into her hands, forcing her to grab it before it falls. She raises her brows, and he backpedals, as if he'd made a mistake.

"Biscuits. I baked them. Pretty good, with rosemary," he stutters. "I, uh. Yeah. Enjoy. Bye."

The ghost of a smile appears on her lips when he hurries away, and actually stumbles on a rock. He hops a few paces to catch his balance, peers over his shoulder to find her still watching him, and runs away with a flush on his purple cheeks.

Leaving the tiefling to his peace – or lack thereof – she peers at the package in her hands. _'The real hero'?_ Wyll does have quite the rose-tinted recollection of her mindless bloodrage in the goblins' fortress. Amused, she attunes herself to the shadow she stands in, and melts into its embrace. Solistre emerges in the corner of camp nearest to the woods, when a voice makes her bite down a sigh. Perhaps she just isn't fated to be left alone this night.

"I'd wondered where you slipped off to."

"Did you really?" Solistre turns to Shadowheart, who leans casually against the boulder that Volo loves huddling by while writing.

"Maybe, maybe not." Shadowheart's eyes glint over her goblet as she takes a sip. "Leaving so soon? I bet Wyll is dying to sing your praises to his adoring crowd."

"If he does, he _will_ die."

Shadowheart chuckles, looking back at said crowd in the middle of camp. "Everyone seems to be in high spirits. Except you, that is." She ignores Solistre's eye roll, still gazing into the distance. "Strange. You know who I never thought I'd find myself caring for?"

"No."

"Tieflings. Never gave them much thought. Certainly not that bunch in the grove," she murmurs, more to herself than anything. "Yet we came through for them. Saved their lives. Odd."

"We were just clearing the way forward."

"How pragmatic. One would think letting the goblins torch the grove would have resulted in the same."

Solistre cocks her head. "I doubt razing Halsin's home to ashes would make him quite so inclined to help us."

"You have a point." Humour flickers in grey eyes. "But nobody's here to debate right from wrong." Swirling the goblet in her hand, Shadowheart looks Solistre over, quiet in thought. "Share a bottle with me?"

Solistre raises a brow, and the bottle in her hand.

"That's their lowbrow stuff." Shadowheart barely spares it a glance. "I liberated one of the finer vintages earlier."

"Just the one?"

"It's _quite_ the bottle. Best enjoyed someplace private, I think."

The invitation in her eyes is clear. Solistre looks down at her bottle, and decides she should go to rest that night with a stomach warm from satisfaction, not necessity. As a reward, if nothing else.

"Now I'm intrigued."

Shadowheart smiles. "We should wait a little while, until the others have drifted off. Meet me by the waterfall."

* * *

There's a dull buzz in her head when the camp finally quiets down close to midnight. Solistre's feet carry her to the waterfall at a lackadaisical pace, and she finds Shadowheart already seated by the rushing water.

"You made it. Come here – sit with me."

Her voice sends a pleasant thrum through Solistre's skull. Sitting at the spot Shadowheart had patted, she leans back on one hand, and waits while her companion pours wine into an empty goblet. The other, she notices, is already filled and drunk from.

"You weren't expecting me to show up?"

"Lots of people make promises. Few keep them."

That sends a pang through her chest, but the buzz in her head makes it easy to ignore the flash of memories.

Shadowheart hands Solistre the goblet, then takes her own. "I was hoping for a toast. Any suggestions?"

She hums, swirling the port and taking a whiff of its rich aroma. "To…victory."

"Hm. Dominant, self-centered, savouring another's loss…" Shadowheart smiles. "I like it. To victory."

Goblets clink together, then silence settles over them while they drink, broken by a moan from Solistre as wine slides down her throat.

"It's not _that_ good, is it?" Shadowheart laughs.

"After drinking swill for hours," Solistre sighs, lowering the goblet. "Anything will taste like ambrosia."

"Should've warned you not to ruin your palate." Shadowheart gazes at her with a smile. "Now, tell me something about yourself. And no tadpoles, dragons, marauding goblins, or anything like that. Something about _you_."

Solistre huffs. "Trying to steal my secrets?"

"More like…fishing for blackmail material." Her smile grows lopsided. "Go on – I insist."

Taking another sip of wine, Solistre sighs. "I'm good with daggers."

"I knew that already," Shadowheart replies, both in humour and exasperation. "Everyone does."

"No. You don't know _exactly_ how good I am with them." She meets Shadowheart's eyes with a dry, sultry gaze. And when she lifts the corner of her mouth in a smirk, her companion's eyes widen by a fraction. _To victory_ , she thinks, as a hand flies across her arm in a slap, Shadowheart rolling her eyes skywards. "It's your turn."

"Oh, no. I brought the refreshments. You can provide the entertainment." Shadowheart recovers nicely, shooting a coy look over the rim of her goblet. Is it just the wine, or does Shadowheart seem…less guarded? Both of them do.

_Definitely the wine._

"So, tell me more."

Solistre casts her mind around for details that won't give much away. "I grew up in Menzoberranzan," she says, and regrets it instantly. Longing stabs at her heart, and it takes effort to keep her face placid.

"Go on."

She bites on a cheek in self-reproach. "I lived in Narbondellyn – a wealthy district. Many powerful houses lived there. And you could find nearly every luxury you could dream of – the most exquisite gems, exotic delicacies, the softest spidersilk that could ever caress your skin. But…the most fun you could find was in the Bazaar. There are people of nearly every race, goods of every type in the market. Anything you want, you can find there as long as you know where and how to look." Her gaze grows distant, as she walks through her memory of the streets, almost feeling upon her skin the prickling of tension simmering beneath enforced peace. "Order in the market is kept by patrols, of course, but there are _so_ many ways to cause a bit of chaos…and get away with it. There was one time, I brought my–"

Only when she turns back to Shadowheart, does she become aware of the wide, indulgent grin on her face. Shadowheart watches her, eyes alight with interest, but the sight of her companion brings reality clashing with cherished memory. Her lips quiver, and the grin fades quickly. Solistre averts her gaze, bringing the goblet to her mouth – more as an excuse than anything.

"You were saying…?"

She's half-tempted to snap, but loath to ruin the companionable mood they've built. Instead, she puts on a stiff smile. "You're good. You nearly got some actual blackmail material out of me."

Shadowheart cocks her head, watching Solistre. If she has any opinion of Solistre's lapse, she doesn't give it away. "Nearly. I'll have to try harder, then."

"If you wish." Another sip of wine, then Solistre deflects, "Now, it's your turn."

"But–"

"And it's my turn to insist."

Shadowheart shoots her a wry smile, then sighs. "Don't laugh…but I'm not quite sure I have anything to share." She taps a finger on her goblet. "When you worship Shar, secrecy is everything. We'll sacrifice our own memories when ordered to. A lot of the little things…they're lost to me now."

Her gaze falls to the ground, arms hugging tighter around her knees.

"Not really," Solistre murmurs. "You like night orchids. And you can't swim. You told me once."

Eyes lighting up in surprise, Shadowheart looks back at Solistre, a smile breaking across her face. "I did! And you remembered. You're sweet."

"Hardly," Solistre deadpans.

"Maybe so," Shadowheart replies, receiving a squint in return. "But there's still plenty of wine, and the whole night ahead of us." She pours more of the vintage into Solistre's glass. "Let's see if we can't sweeten you further."

"Perish the thought."

* * *

The night's indulgence doesn't weigh on her head as much as expected, and she rouses from her trance with a mellow haze, muscles free of tension for the first time in ages. _Ah_ – no, wait. The back of her knees feel sore.

Lifting her head to look down, Solistre realises she'd fallen into a trance with her legs dangling over edge. With a quiet hiss, she shuffles backwards, lifting her legs to stretch them out. She rolls onto her side, and finds Shadowheart still lying beside her, gazing up at the sky.

"Nearly light," Shadowheart whispers. "The others will be awake soon."

A groan rumbles in her throat, and Solistre sniffs. "They can wait."

"Another moment won't kill them, I suppose. Well, it might, but let's take that risk."

That draws a languid smile from Solistre, as Shadowheart turns to look at her. "Thank you. For last night."

"No need."

"Well-deserved, though."

She trails off, and in the dim light of the coming dawn, Solistre spots a hopeful glimmer in unfathomable eyes. It is then, with the peaceful hum of wine in her blood, Solistre finally sees that the half-elf is…quite alluring.

"If you want something, you should take–"

A loud crash from the camp snaps Solistre's spine straight, though she's well-aware her mind is still half-cradled by trance. She grips the hilt of a dagger strapped to her thigh, muscles tensed, ears pricked to pick up distant voices of lament and chastisement. No sign of alarm.

Irritation licks at her as she relaxes, then tenses again when gentle fingers find purchase on her jaw. Solistre is pushed slowly to the ground as she looks back – or up, when Shadowheart's face enters her vision.

A question forms on her lips, but it's stolen away by the gentle brush of Shadowheart's mouth over hers. Fleeting, experimental. Solistre barely pulls her wits together to respond, catching the edge of soft lips as Shadowheart pulls away. She stares back at her companion, wordless; and when her heart beats an undeniable note, she tilts her chin up.

Shadowheart smiles, and dips in to meet her in another kiss. Still soft, with familiarity from the first, and surety in mutual desire. Solistre tilts further into the kiss, and Shadowheart reciprocates gladly, pressing their lips flush together, the wisp of breath teasing warm skin. A bloom of warmth rises to Solistre's neck, as Shadowheart releases her jaw, hand sliding down to her chest. With a gentle push, she breaks the kiss, smiling when a low growl reaches her ears. She lifts a finger, traces it along Solistre's bottom lip. For a moment, Solistre thinks she'll steal another kiss, but Shadowheart's eyes close in satisfaction, and she lies back on the ground with a sigh.

Still warm from intimacy, Solistre can't find it herself to feel disappointed.

"That didn't hurt, did it?"

Solistre smirks. "A little tingle."

"I'd like to think that would've happened anyway." Shadowheart looks to her, fingers ghosting over the back of Solistre's hand. "Maybe we should do this again."

"Only if you keep liberating more 'fine vintages'."

Shadowheart breaks into a laugh. "So easily bought, are you?"

"Perhaps." Solistre smiles. "You'll just have to find out."


End file.
